There aren't many healthful, wholesome activities to do in Amsterdam. Jogging? Cobblestones are death to your ankles. Biking? Asking for a traffic accident. Not altering your conscienceness? Lame.

So what better way to piss away an afternoon than seeing how beer is made at the Heineken Experience? When it's raining cats and dogs any indoor activity sounds attractive. One that gives you beer with the price of admission - even moreso.

Included in your admission price ($22.50 USD by the way, wildly overpriced) you get access to this fancy little kiosk that lets you take pictures or videos and email them to people. For free! Tourist crap like this is never free! So, I call SCORE, and best pic of the trip.

I like this picture because because for ONCE Martin's not holding the camera himself and concentrating so hard on focusing it that a few chromsomes fall out his butt. He looks cute and nerdy. Just the way I like him.

Plus, there's a windmill, and I can pull off ruffles. That's a double SCORE!

I'm going to divert from my regular MLM format and treat you to a little something that, while still musical, is really a trip down late night TV memory lane (only THE BEST KIND EVER).

Blu Blockers rap by MC Dr. Geek

TELL ME I am not the only one who remembers this infomercial from the 90's! There are several things awesome about this video:

1) A sweet rap2) A phat pair of specs3) The uncertainty if this was planned in advance or if it's true free style4) That boombox (or is it boom box?)5) That HAT!

Coincidence much?

I think not.

I can't seem to find a date on this video. My best guess would be 1994. Originally I was surprised that THIS was the best tactic they could come up with to sell sunglasses on late night TV (a crappy venue in itself, were there no Sunglass Huts 15 years ago?). In 1994 Nelson Mandela became the president of South Africa (the good), Tonya Harding went on a knee bashing spree (the bad), and Michael Jackson married a chick (the ugly). Times were not as they are today. They were cookier than Cocoa Puffs. And that's not even mentioning OJ "Murder McMurderson" Simpson.

Was this guy actually walking down Venice Beach looking like that? Seriously? Pauly Shore dressed more appropriately than this, and he worse ass-less chaps!

Monday, November 23, 2009

It's been a while for the MLM, hasn't it? An embaressing while - sorry about that, my bad. But I have plenty of new inspiration from the most exciting thing to hit my life in months (years?):

I can't really put into words how I feel about this Fox (funny Fox, not dipshit psycho Fox - there's a big diff) show. It's like my-hatred-of-the-world meets a musical. And need I repeat my wish for my life to turn into an around the clock musical? I think not.

Plus, in true Hollywood style of "25 year old teenagers and 35-year old parents" (direct Jack McFarland quote) I have found the love of my life:

I'd let this Canadian man child teen impregnant me any day, even though I'm well past the possibility of that happening (as is he).

Glee is not all delightful snark and singing, though. Glee has had me crying like a b!tch on more than one occasion (ususally wine fueled, I must admit). Particularly when Kurt (I LOVE KURT) came out of the closet to his rough-and-tough single dad and Sue visited her sister with Downs Syndrome.

Holy, am I off track here. This reads more like a love letter to Glee than a proper MLM. Let's get to the tunes, the most recently aired song on my fave show ever:

"Lean on Me" by Club Nouveau

Love. This. Song. I was thrilled to hear it on Glee (even though I am so over the story line it centers around). I'd like to dedicate this song to my guuuurl Sara "Chuckles" Cook. Holla atcha boy, girl. Make sure that fridge is strapped in nice and tight. (Apologies for the inside joke)

One last Glee-related note: Does anybody else recognize Kurt's dad, Mike O'Malley, from the old Nickelodean show Guts? Because I totally do. And that makes me awesome.

If you ever have a week to kill in Spain and you're a native English speaker, do I have the job for you: Pueblo Ingles.

Pueblo Ingles is a program where 20 native English speakers (called Anglos) and 20 Spaniards (called, um, Spaniards) get together for 1 week of sweet, unadulterated English speakin'.

Spaniards, as a whole, speak much less English than the Norway folk. So in order to improve their skills they are mercilessly isolated together with people who don't speak Spanish so they're forced to rely on English. Or as I like to call it, the greatest language in the world whybotherlearninganythingelse?

The best part for me was all the (admittedly shitty) red wine you could drink. For free. Starting at 2 p.m. Whoever said wine was the "classy" beverage choice ain't never seen me pour 2.5 bottles down my throat - over lunch.

Nay, the best part was meeting new people - I did this entirely on my own - drinking and "having a laugh". I picked up a lot of British terminology there. I love those Brits! But I will save my love letter to them for another day.

And, God love my frugal ways, the entire week was free. Crappy wine (red only) and all. I just had to get myself from Point A (currently Norway) to Madrid and house myself there for 2 nights. I highly recommend you look into this program if you're serious about chilling for a week for free in the gorgeous Spanish countryside, and meeting some seriously awesome people.

Now on to my favorite picture. The location of my program was a few minutes walk from the village of La Alberca in the region of Salamanca. We took a day trip into town to see the sights and, like, learn stuff and stuff. This is one of the things we learned about:

This big, smelly-ass pig lives on the streets of the town! And it lives off the generosity of the townspeople to feed it. At the end of the year, back in the day, they would give it to the poorest family in town. Nowadays they raffle it off, as I don't suppose any family would be too keen on being dubbed "the poorest in town".

When I said "smelly-ass" I was not being facetious, nor trying to be funny or cute. He smelled. His ass smelled. To be literal, as my adorable new British friend said upon seeing the copious amounts of feces caked to his backside, "he shat himself!".

About Me

No longer in Norway, and with a work ethic that has (de)evolved into one that is downright European, "An American Work Ethic in Norway" has a new name, is in a new country and has a renewed sense of awesome-ivity. I'm back, kicking ass, and being the fabulous Benji that I am.